


Grey

by AnneCumberbatch



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Colours, Gen, Grey, Heartbreak, Hurt Sherlock, Pain, Shock, numb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 14:50:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11853834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneCumberbatch/pseuds/AnneCumberbatch
Summary: Grey.Everything was suddenly grey.-----------------------------------------------------------





	Grey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everything was suddenly grey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sky was grey.

 

A slab of solid grey lining the entirety of the expanse above John’s head, reaching from where it started on one horizon to where it ended at the other.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The grass was grey.

 

 All around John’s knees as he knelt there on the ground, it was grey. He could feel the cold damp of the ground seeping in through the fabric at his knees, but that did not cause him to rise. The grass spread out away from him like water, rising and falling like waves in the cold wind blowing around him.  Grey skeletal arms, reaching up out of their dirt graves beneath them. Reaching for something to rescue them. But the wind whipped them back and forth without care.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The trees were grey.

 

The scraggy branches jutting out from the trunks were grey. The thin branches shook and trembled with the rough passing of the wind between them, sending the few remaining leaves spiraling into space.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His own hands were grey.

 

John’s hands were out before him, shaking. His fingers were grey and his skin was dry and cracked. The tremors in his hands mirrored the shaking of the skeletal branches on the trees around him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The blood was red.

The blood on his hands, on his clothes, on his face, on the ground seeping into the dirt, and covering the body in front of him was red. Bright red. Heavy and hot and sticky, the red was just oozing now, slowly draining from the corpse in thick dark lines. Running away from the stopped heart to the air and the dark soil, waiting to catch and capture the life the blood had carried away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His eyes were grey.

But Sherlock’s eyes had always been grey. But now they were a grey of different sorts, his eyes, as they stared up into nothing. Unseeing, empty, blank, absent, grey eyes. Eyes that no longer held care for the blood leaving his body, that no longer were trying to assure life, that no longer were awake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The grey eyes had fallen asleep while still open.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Deep blue was the last thing they saw.


End file.
